Raindrops—Catch me if you can

Chapter 3: Going back

Maybe we were just meant to dream, to be here in the middle of the void and the pregnancy of night. The perfect mix of caring and sharing and kindness all swirled into one wide embrace that covered us so that we could be free to do whatever we wanted.

Actually, I'm not sure what I'm talking about either.

But that was the wonderful thing about walking alone by yourself at night. The words you thought just flowed forth from you, and no one asked any questions, just took it in and thought about it, mulling it over.

Because someway, somehow, you just got the feeling that the grass, the sky, the stars—they all understood, and welcomed you for it.

Or maybe I'm dreaming again. It happens often.

The streets were empty and dark—everyone else was at home, spending time with their families in the brightly shining houses that were lined in a row. And I was alone, dragging my luggage along, my shadow lengthening as I got farther and farther away from the lamplight I had passed awhile ago. It was starting to fade into the darkness of the sidewalk, like it was trying to disappear and run off to furtively explore something else rather than stick here with me.

Honestly, I was boring, despite the fact that I was a witch. I never dared to do anything truly different, because I was trying to beat Petunia, I was trying so hard to strive for the perfection that I could never seem to reach, I was trying to make my parents proud and make them happy, I was trying to please myself and finally be satisfied and content.

But it never worked. I could never become one with them.

Stop being so emo, Evans. That's what Mai would say, with a roll of her eyes, and a giggle.

Feh. Mai. She was a complicated one. But aren't we all? Cynical, but funny, and hardly ever serious. It made me wonder about her—if she ever got depressed, if she ever felt sad and wanted someone to talk to, if she ever actually felt any of the blows the Slytherins tried to land on her.

I remember once, she had been running down the halls of Hogwarts, broad grin across her face, her hair in pigtails, tugging at the robes of random people, asking, "LET'S NOT GROW UP, OKAY?"

When I took her by the shoulders and tried to calm her down, she started giggling and couldn't stop. Except her giggling scared me, because it was almost hysterical, like someone who was trying to laugh something off, but was going to cry instead.

I tried getting her to talk to me, but she didn't stay still, and sprinted through the halls, calling over her shoulder, "I'll see you later, Lily!"

I left her alone, thinking she probably wanted some time alone to herself. But I probably should have chased her down to talk about what was going on, how she was feeling.

But it was too late now. I was standing in the dark night and she was God-knows-where. And Christina…she had bouts of depression sometimes, I couldn't really be shaken from them. It scared me during those times, because I was afraid she would do something desperate, but she assured me that she wouldn't, because she was "afraid of blood and sharp objects." And I wasn't one to talk, anyway.

We were all pretty much a screwed up bunch.

But I guess all teenagers are. It's the beauty of being one. The weird ones in a weird, dysfunctional world.

I was reaching the end of all the lit houses, and the stars seemed to shine brighter and more brilliantly than usual. Maybe it was because they no longer had to compete with the garish luminosity of artificial light. The problem with the suburbs was that all the house lights dimmed out the stars—it was like the flamboyance of humanity was trying to outdo Mother Nature, who wasn't even competing at all, and content to take things as they were and are.

Or maybe I'm over-analyzing.

I loved the stars. They kept laughing at me, at my depressing thoughts, and begged me to cheer up and be more optimistic. Sometimes at night, when everyone in the house was asleep, I'd sneak out and lie in the front driveway, gazing up at those twinkling masses. Sometimes I'd dance under them, music pulsing through my blood, my soul, and I'd reach up towards them, imagining how it'd be to be so hopeful and naive and innocent like they were.

Hopelights. I had made that word up one day when I had sneaked out to dance, the darkness hugging me, the stars as my audience, applauding and twinkling with all their might. They were like the beacons of a lighthouse, but they called the hopeful, wishing wanderer to a place where she belong, reminding me that life wasn't only depressing and sad, and that living was simple, actually, simple and clear and everything in between.

And right then, at the end of the street right there, I shrugged off my backpack and dropped my suitcase, and started to swirl and dance around. Because life was full of hidden surprises. Because life was full of mystery. Because life was sweet and bitter and salty and bland, because I had to experience it all. Because the end to everything was happiness. Because I was me and the stars were who they were, and nothing in the world could change that.

Because there was always something to celebrate and dance about after all.

.x.

Despite the number of times I've ridden the Knight Bus, I still had the steady myself when the bright purple bus popped up when I stuck out my wand (right) hand.

I guess to be able to hail the Knight Bus without a blink was a "I-was-born-seeing-huge-bright-purple-buses-popping-up" thing rather than an acquired skill.

"Hello! My name is Kimberley!" said an enthusiastic girl who walked down the steps of the Knight Bus. I nodded and pretended to listen as she listed the fares.

"How much is plain, normal fare without anything?"

"11 sickles," said the girl happily.

I searched through my pockets and gave her the money, and then walked onto the bus, finding a seat in the middle. I learned from experience that the reckless driving tended to affect the movement of beds/seats in the middle of the bus the least. I collapsed onto the bed and watched the lights of more houses fly past me as the bus rushed past them. My eyelids felt heavier and heavier, and at times I'd find myself wake with a start.

We came to an abrupt stop, and I was thrown sideways, nearly falling off the bed. I was definitely awake now. When I finally managed to sit upright, I saw a head of messy black hair coming up the steps. When the full body that belonged to said head appeared, and started walking down the aisles towards me, I had to smile.

"Evans!" called none other but James Potter.

"Potter, hey!" I greeted back. James being James, sat at the end of the very bed I was sitting on.

"Potter, get your own damn bed, you oaf."

"Going back to the formalities of enemies and using last names, are we?"

"You started it."

He paused. "True." He paused again, looking at the mug in his hands that he probably bought for insert-number-of-sickles-here. "Chocolate?" he then asked, offering me the mug.

"James, it's July."

He laughed a little, whether at my remark or at the fact that I used his first name now, I wasn't sure.

"So?"

"Usually people drink hot chocolate in the winter when it's cold, not when it's 85 degrees outside."

"Hey, I wanted some hot chocolate. Aren't I free to drink hot chocolate if I want to?"

"Yeah, but sane people don't drink hot chocolate when it's warm outside already."

"Okay, you're right. I bought the hot chocolate because I thought the girl in the front was cute. I couldn't help myself."

I rolled my eyes. "Such the gentleman."

"Girls like nice guys. Especially guys who spend money on them."

"James, you were buying it from her, not buying it to give to her."

"Still, girls like guys who buy stuff, whether from them or for them, it doesn't matter."

"Is that your new way of flirting now? Getting girls by buying stuff they may be selling?"

"Possibly." His eyes brightened. "Why, Lily, are you jealous?"

I nearly fell off the bed again. He did not say what I thought he did. There was no way.

"WHAT?" I managed to choke this out because I was about to laugh hysterically.

"You seem to be fixated on how I was flirting with the conductor girl."

"I am NOT jealous and I could care less if you and the conductor girl were making out right now, as long as it wasn't on my bed." I glared at him, trying to give a subtle hint that I wanted him off.

He didn't get it. He smiled at me instead, and said casually, "You know, Lily, if you were the conductor instead, I'd probably buy hot chocolate, and a toothbrush from you."

I grabbed a pillow from the bed and chucked it at him.

.x.

An hour had passed, and the bus was still rumbling along, except not as jerky and abrupt as before, because we were driving along the lonely streets of the countryside. The hum of the bus was like a lullaby, and James was sleeping in my bed. The stupid moron could've gotten his own bed and passed out there, but he refused to budge after I threw the pillow, claiming it was appropriate punishment. Of course, I tried pushing him off and I almost succeeded, but then he flipped over onto his stomach and lay down, so it'd be harder for me to push him, and he immediately fell asleep.

But the funniest thing was the fact that I didn't really care that James Potter was slightly snoring while he lay sprawled over my bed, even if I was bunched into a little corner of space.

His black hair was as messy as ever, as incorrigible as he was. His mouth was frowning slightly, his eyebrows furrowed a little, and his glasses askew. I quietly took off his glasses for him and put them on the table beside my bed. I was confused by his frown. This definitely did not seem like James Potter. I would have thought that he would be smiling broadly in his sleep, dreaming of the pranks he would play with Sirius, Remus, and Peter. But no, he was frowning as if something was bothering him and he was trying to figure it out, but it wasn't working. I would have started laughing if it hadn't worried me so much—James Potter, being serious? It was inconceivable!

You give him too little credit, warned a voice in my mind. The times when he was the most serious were the times you were the silliest and most flippant.

I remembered. I remembered his face, earnest and pleading, hopeful and waiting. I had been laughing hysterically and smiling like he was joking. And I could tell he wasn't, but I had to think he was so that I'd feel better.

So I'd feel better. How nice it sounds, once I actually voiced it. Yes. I had been flippant and presumptuous. And I felt a blush start to creep across my cheeks at my behavior, and I had to look away from his face, remembering how he had frowned when I gave my answer back then.

"Lily, will you go out with me?"

"You must be joking, James."

"Why would I be?"

"Because you don't like me. Because we're just friends."

"And how do you know I don't like you?"

"Because you don't. I mean, come on, you were staring at that girl just a few minutes ago."

"Lily, I've liked you ever since third year."

"That's bullshit."

He had stared at me, his eyes confused and shocked, and I had run away, mumbling some excuse, trying to tell myself he was just pulling another prank. That the look in his eyes was feigned and he'd laugh about it later with Sirius, She told me, "'That's bullshit!' What a way to reject a guy, eh? I hope no person ever actually asks her out and means it!

Feeling guilty and trying to conciliate, I smoothed away the wrinkle between his eyebrows, and tried turning his frown into a smile. There. That looked more like the James Potter I knew. He stirred a little, and gave out a little sigh.

He was a funny person, James. He had this way of charming you even though you were super pissed at him, and you couldn't help but smile at his jokes and forgive him. But on the occasions when he got serious, he was inscrutable. You didn't exactly what was going through his eyes, and when he looked at you during those few times, it was almost like he was looking past you, thinking of something else.

Sometimes, I wish I could just peek into his mind and see what was going on, past all the ordinary, mundane stuff that he was famous for, and into the place that no one really knew about. His thoughts, his feelings, his soul, his character, his hidden faces—I wanted to know them all. It sounded a little weird to say that James, who was seen as open and carefree, was one of the most mysterious people I had ever met.

I liked James. I thought he was funny and smart and intelligent. But I also disliked him at times—I hated how sometimes, he never really tried, simply because he didn't feel like it. I hated it when he was complacent and so smug about himself. Those were the times I wanted to shoot him the most. I hated when he was trying to be annoying in that penetrating kind of way on purpose. I hated how he thought that the world should be served to him on a silver platter, how he played pranks on the Slytherins simply because he hated them, with no true reason. And how he didn't care that people got hurt and didn't care that he was wearing the teachers down to the point where they almost didn't care anymore. And I hated how he took advantage of that.

He may've grown up, but some of his old self was still there, as irritating and prick-ish as ever.

But I guess I myself was annoying just by trying to change him, and make him something else, or making him only part of himself.

Still, one can dream, right?

To be perfectly honest, I had a crush on him last year. Which, I guess, made me all the more determined not to like him and to get over him and to not go out with him. I wasn't quite sure why—maybe because I didn't want James to get the satisfaction that all his nagging and obstinacy and doggedness finally worked, because it hadn't. I didn't want him to think that he had finally worn me down, like the teachers. Or maybe it was because I knew that our personalities just didn't match—I flew into a temper too easily, and he knew just exactly how to cause that to happen, and did it, too.

I looked outside again. Nothing but darkness and stars way up in the sky. And the moon. I loved the moon. I loved how if you stared hard enough, you could get a feel of who she really was, the nuances in shading and luminance. My favorite was when she was a crescent, waning into a new moon, but not yet halfway there. It reminded me of…well, me. Torn between hiding and remaining conspicuous for everyone to see. Trying to decide whether I loved the world or wanted to run away from it. Torn between the past and the future, hanging frozen in the present. The moon, she understood that everything was different but the same, where everything was a ritual in some way. Sooner or later, the end reached the beginning to make a cycle.

Sometimes, if you stared hard enough, you could see a lighter shade of black in a circle to complement the crescent and make the whole shape of the moon. I liked to think that it was the moon's own essence refusing to be defeated by the earth, and tried to still stand out from the darkness of the night. Even if the rest of her was trying to hide away.

How funny it was, the way they called the non-existent moon the "new" moon. Almost as if to be new in life, you had to start completely over, strip down to nothing and build yourself from there.

Would that mean if we wanted to start over with the world, to make it new and young and pure again, we'd have to get rid everyone? Wait for the world to cave in? Was that why God had supposedly sent that flood? Was that His way of clearing the way and making everything new again?

How odd it was to think about these things. But it made sense—when I had gone to Hogwarts for the first time, I felt like I was a new person trying to get used to new things. Because everything I had known was gone, except for me, myself.

A loud snore from James abruptly scattered all my thoughts. And I started giggling. I couldn't help it—it was so funny. Eventually, his louder snoring got annoying, and I pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping that it would do something.

It didn't.

I poked him, trying to get him to wake up, but all he did was turn over to his side. At least he had stopped snoring now.

It took out my journal from my backpack, and rummaged around for a pen.

Dear twenty-year old self, I scribbled down. This was how I addressed it (rather, myself) sometimes. Because I knew sooner or later, I'd come back and read everything I wrote. And it had a nice ring to it.

My current situation: just awoken from reminiscence and deep thought by snores of James Potter, who is sleeping on my bed.

That sounded funny. James Potter is sleeping on my bed. In the weird world of today, if I said that, people would've immediately assumed I had slept with him. I smiled, thinking about Mai and Christina's reactions if I had told them James Potter had been sleeping in my bed.

Me: Hey Christina.

Christina: LILY! Man, I haven't seen you in ages. What's up?

Me: James slept in my bed last night.

Her: Uhm…what?

Me: Yeah.

Her (tries to find an explanation that doesn't implicate what she thought happened): Oh! But you weren't there, right? You weren't on the bed with him?

Me: Yeah, I was.

Christina: YOU WERE? LILY! WHAT'D HE DO TO YOU? Did he drug you into it?

Me: Uhm, no. It just kind of…happened.

Christina: WHY ARE YOU LYING? WHY ARE YOU PROTECTING HIM?

Me: I'm not. Really.

Her: You'd never do anything as stupid as that. You know better, Lily. Tell me what he did.

Me: Nothing, Christina. Honestly.

Her: HE CONVINCED YOU TO COVER FOR HIM! When I lay my hands on that bastard…

Me: Hey Mai.

Mai: LILAYYYY! squee hug How's it going, man? Didn't do anything weird over the summer?

Me: James slept in my bed last night.

Her: WHOA! Seriously?

Me: Yeah.

Her: THAT'S SO FUNNY. Awwwww, Lily hun, you were always the most innocent out of all of us. But, y'know, CONGRATULATIONS. You did use protection, right? SAFE SEX, MAN. Screw abstinence, you already messed that one up. If you're going to do it, at least make sure you don't get HIV or something, or a baby. Unless you wanted a baby before you get married. But that's not cool, man, because that was my idea.

Me: I didn't have sex with him.

Her: Eh?

Me: I was sitting on my bed, and then we were talking, and then he passed out.

Her: You were talking, eh?

Me: Maiiiii….

Her: Okay, okay, fine. You didn't have sex with James Potter. Even though you wanted to.

Me: Maiiiii……

Her: Well, he's hot. I wouldn't go for him, but still. You wouldn't want to have sex with an ugly person, would you?

Me: MAAAIIIIII.

Her: Okay, okay. Sorry Lily. Don't kill me, please, I don't want to die a virgin. Which, by the way, congratulations on your keeping of virginity despite the fact that there was a cute guy on your bed.

Me: I hate you.

Her: Awww, I love you too, Lily.

(Pause)

Me: So you were really serious about having kids and then getting married?

Mai: Noooooo. I was just kidding. Kind of.

Me: KIND OF?

Mai: Yeah, so, I went to this really awesome concert where the lead singer took his water bottle and sprayed it on us, and everyone was screaming and crowding to just get a drop, and I was wishing SO BADLY that he'd jump off or something so I could molest him.

Me: Uhm…

Her: It's not fair—some lucky bitches in the front got to GROPE HIM. WHY COULDN'T THAT HAVE BEEN ME? sobs

Me: runs away

It's funny, how different we are, but everything works out, and we're all happy. I think it's kind of cool, that we're friends because we are, not because we have interests to bind us together.

I love those two. Despite how…queer they are.

It's been me, Mai, and Christina ever since…well, second year, really. First year we were all busy being shy and not talking to anyone. But it was second year that we all shared a little room together. At first, we were all kind of awkward, since we didn't know each other and we were going to be living together.

The ice between us all hadn't broken until that day when all three of us had walked down to the common room together. Bellatrix Black had been sitting there with the rest of her sycophants (and the people she scared into submission), and she had looked up at the three of us with pure malice and disdain.

"Well, well, if it isn't the little half-blood freak. And look! The little mudblood as well! They make the dynamic duo, don't you think, Darloy?"

Christina had blushed a little at the insults, but had said nothing, grabbing both of our hands and trying to move on.

"Why, Darloy. You've reached an all-time low. Sinking down to such a level, hanging out with them. It's a disgrace to your blood."

"I may have disgraced my blood, Black, but at least I haven't disgraced all of humanity."

Bellatrix had laughed. "Humanity? What humanity? Those two don't even deserve a human status." She sneered at me and Mai.

"Why Belly!" exclaimed Mai. "I didn't know you cared! How absolutely sweet of you! I don't know how to return such a compliment! I know! We'll invite you to our dynamic duo and we can become this terrific threesome! How's that? Doesn't that sound marvelous?"

You could have practically seen the saccharine hearts hanging around Mai's words. Bellatrix had looked at her in shocked disgust. The look on her face had been so funny, a mix of shock, anger, and a terror of Mai, that I couldn't stop but start giggling.

"Yes, Belly," I had said, still laughing a little, adopting Mai's sweet little nickname, "please join us! It'll be perfect! One dark, twisted girl with two parents of magic blood, one twisted but not dark girl with one parent of magic blood, and one girl in general with no parents of any magical blood at all! It's perfect! Oh, please do, Belly, please do! It'll be ever so much fun!"

Bellatrix had cast a terrified look at me, as I was now smiling more broadly than ever. She gave us a contemptuous glare and spat the word, "Lesbians," before she had run out of the common room, all of her little group following her.

Mai, Christina and I had burst into laughter. There was just something about teasing a dark, sadistic girl that made you closer and come together inevitably.

"Wow," Christina had gasped. "What a homophobe."

"I'll say," Mai had agreed. "There's nothing wrong with gay people. They're just like to have sex with people of the same gender."

"Some people might consider that wrong," I pointed out. "And anyway, they don't like to have sex, necessarily. They just like the other gender."

"Have sex," Mai had insisted.

"Like." I had shaken my head.

"Either way, they'd like to do something with the same sex," Christina had said.

"Yay," I had added.

"Did you just say, 'Yay?'" Mai had asked.

"Yes. Yay."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Why not?"

"Because there's nothing to 'yay' about."

"It's a space-filler."

"You can't do that."

"Yes I can. Who says I can't?"

Mai had stared at me. Christina had looked thoughtful, and then had said, "She's got a point, y'know."

Mai had looked around aimlessly, as if she hadn't been listening. "Oh my, is that a purple penis I see?"

"Uhm, it's a pillow, Mai."

"Right."

I think it was then we had realized that we would never find anyone as weird and as queer as us, the three people standing around the fireplace, staring at the crackling, dancing fire that couldn't stop giggling about our pointless conversation.

"I'm hungry," Christina had said suddenly.

"I'm always hungry," Mai had said. She had always liked to get in the last word.

And this time, it had been my turn to grab both of their hands and lead them to the door, stumbling and giggling, out of the common room and into the Great Hall, finally comfortable with the two other people who shared my room.

Funny how this all came back to me now, on a dark train, hurtling into nowhere. We had been together for five years. It was hard to imagine that we only had one year left before we'd all go our separate ways and possibly never see each other again.

And James…I had known James a little less longer than I had Christina and Mai. James had introduced himself around two months after the Bellatrix incident.

I had been talking to Christina and Mai about this weird dream I had had the night before (something with octopuses and alligators and the game Clue), when suddenly Mai had muttered, "Don't look now, but James Potter's staring at you right now."

"Who?" I had tried to fight the urge to turn my head and turn in the direction Mai was indicating. I couldn't help but feel a little flattered that a boy was actually looking at me.

"James Potter. Y'know, of the Marauders."

I had turned around to look at the messy-haired boy she was indicating. "Oh." Not so flattered anymore. James stared at almost all the girls back then. Between him and Sirius, they probably had the whole school covered. And I hadn't liked James Potter very much then, because of his bragging, showy behavior and all.

James and Sirius had been arguing, and suddenly, James practically flew from his seat, as if he had been shoved out. He had scowled horribly at Sirius, who had merely waved his little fingers and smirked back.

He had started walking towards me.

"Hi, Lily," he had greeted me.

"Hi." I hadn't known whether to add "James," or "Potter," since I hadn't even known him, but he had said my first name, so I had decided to leave it out.

"Ithinkyou'reprettywillyougooutwithme?"

"Uhm, what?"

He had taken a deep breath, and had smiled charmingly, as if to regain his confidence. "I think you're pretty. Will you go out with me?"

I had smiled a little, to cover how fazed I was by his question. "Uhm, sorry, but I hardly know you."

"When we get to know each other, then?"

I had stared at his audacity and persistency. "I don't know…Let's just be friends first?"

"Okay." He had smiled broadly. And I had smiled back.

I now looked down at the same boy, five years older, still sleeping and passed out on my bed. I sighed loudly, and stirred the hair on his forehead. He still didn't move.

I sighed again.

I wanted to sleep. But I couldn't, because he was on my bed. And I know that I could've just gone onto another bed on the bus, but it was my bed, I had claimed it first, and my stuff was all around it.

You just don't want to give in to James Potter in any way, said the voice of truth. I hated the voice of truth. I really did. Sometimes I wanted to throttle it and make it shut up so I could stop feeling like an idiot.

So what if I didn't want to give in to James? There was nothing wrong with that, was there? It's not like it made me a bad person. It made me stronger, actually, since I'd have to put up with his bull-headedness. And annoying personality traits. And stupid tendencies. But whatever.

I was not going to move beds. I was not going to give him the satisfaction in the morning that his stupidity had caused me to give up and move beds. I was not. And I wasn't going to sleep with him on that bed either, like he probably had wanted me to.

I was not. And just to spite him, I would stay in my bed, scrunched up in my corner, and I wouldn't lie down to sleep at all.

I sighed for the third time on the bus ride.

It was going to be a long night.